


Now Make a Man Out of Me

by ring_around_the_daisy



Series: Internal Wars [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angel Dean Winchester, Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ring_around_the_daisy/pseuds/ring_around_the_daisy
Summary: 5 years after the end of the war that ruled the universe for so long Dean is trying to recover and put his life back together. While he deals with the effects of war and adjusting to civilian life as well as trying to fit into a family that no longer feels like his own, someone that he'd tried his best to forget about shows up in his life at the worst time possible. Dean becomes embroiled in a mental war to keep himself sane while also dealing with everything on the outside and learning that he isn't a lost cause.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was sitting at yet another bar with his head nearly against the counter. Bottles and shot glasses were lined up around him but it still didn't feel like enough to push away the mess in his head. He signaled for another drink but a water was set in front of him instead, the bartender giving him a look that said he was done. Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled the water forward and took a few sips out of the glass. It might not be alcohol but it was still a way to occupy himself.

When the glass was about half empty he set some cash on the counter before stumbling out of the building. The brisk night air greeted him and bit at his skin, waking him up a bit but still not helping his coordination any. He stumbled and the world seemed to be at a slant as he walked which resulted in him running into a lamp post and bumping his head. The impact caused a wave of nausea to roll through him and he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk with one of his arms wrapped around the pole tightly for support.

After he was done vomiting, he continued his jerky walk until he made it to a park where he decided to pass out beneath a tree. The grass was soft and he'd certainly slept in worse places. The alcohol in his system was making him sleepy and he didn't have the strength to make it all the way back to Sam's house. He could catch a bus in the morning. That sounded good.

The morning came with the sun waking Dean up as well as his massive hangover. Thanks to throwing everything up the night before all he could do now is dry heave before struggling to his feet. Dirt lined his back and grass was caught in his hair but he didn't seem to care. All he wanted to do was get to a soft bed and darkness so he could tune out for a while. 

When he finally got back to Sam's and rang the doorbell, it was his girlfriend Jessica who answered the door. They had a sort of love/hate relationship going on. Jessica tried to be nice and understanding to Dean but it was no secret that she thought he was an alcoholic bum. Sam made every excuse for Dean that he could, most consisting of the fact that he was a damaged person from his time in war. Jessica would often come back with the argument that they had no idea what he'd even done up there so it could be a lot less severe than they thought. This always angered Dean and usually resulted in him storming out and drinking himself into a stupor like last night.

"Dean...glad to see you made it back." said Jessica, giving him a tight smile as she stepped to the side so he could get in.

"I always do." said Dean, giving her a slight smirk before heading towards his bathroom. He was about halfway there when he was stopped by Sam who looked both relieved to see him and annoyed at his appearance. 

"Dean...did you pass out in the park again?" asked Sam, his voice hesitant. It was clear he already knew the answer but was checking just in case.

"Yep. I'm gonna take a shower now." said Dean before pushing past him, hearing an argument start as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

The water from the shower managed to drown out the sound of yelling while also soothing his aching muscles. He had to admit that he was getting a bit old to be sleeping against tree roots. The shower lasted close to a half hour, a normal thing for him since showers, even after five years back on Earth, still felt like a luxury. When he got out, the bathroom was filled with steam and the mirror was fogged up. He wiped the mirror off with his hand before opening the door a crack to let out the steam, a pleasant sigh being let out from the rush of cool air that came in.

A few minutes later he was walking out with a towel around his waist and disappearing into his bedroom. His plan was to go through his usual exercise routine despite the hangover. He thought he'd just chug some water and that would solve his problems. It worked for the most part when he went through things like this.

 

The hot sun beat down on Dean's back as he punched away at the punching bag in the back yard. His hands were wrapped in tape and he was barefoot, ensuring that he felt every blow he delivered. The rhythmic  _'thump thump thump'_ intertwined with his heavy breathing as he continued on. Since coming back to Earth, he'd made a point of doing a rigorous workout everyday no matter the weather. If he wasn't able to workout then he got antsy and unpredictable.

Right now, he had the house to himself since both Sam and Jessica were at work. Sam was a human rights lawyer, specializing in omega rights, and Jessica was a doctor. They were both wildly successful and it made Dean proud to see his brother doing so well in life. It just showed that he'd made the right decision by choosing to go to war and let Sam live a normal life. Yet, at the same time, it made Dean feel inadequate because it brought Dean's own shortcomings into sharp focus.

Dean couldn't hold a job, the noises of everyday life would set him off and he didn't know how to deal with people. Instead, he was on disability and while a veterans disability paid better than most it wasn't a ton so he was forced to live with other people. Sam had offered, saying he had more than enough space and money to take care of Dean and his needs. Dean knew the offer was done more out of guilt than brotherly love, though. Sam felt responsible for Dean's current mental state and how he was unable to function in society.

Sam kept trying to get Dean to go to therapy, something he'd abandoned after a few sessions since he could see the therapist was just there for the money. That and the fact that he didn't feel like delving into all the dark memories he had trapped inside of him voluntarily. He did that enough at night with nightmares that made him wake up screaming, covered in a cold sweat. There were a few that were scary enough that he'd even wet the bed and he'd had to shamefully change his sheets in the middle of the night and hope Sam didn't choose this time to check on him. He did't think he could take his younger brother seeing him at that low.

As he felt himself reaching his limits, he went through his warm-down before drinking from his jug of water in the shade. The sweat was cooling on his body now and the ache in his muscles was pleasant. While he wouldn't tell anyone this, a little bit of pain made him feel sane because that had been a constant for him for so long. Being pain free was so odd that he almost couldn't handle it so he needed something, even if it was just a slight muscle ache.

 

Dean wasn't a praying man or even remotely religious but he found himself sitting inside a church anyways. It was empty and he was in the last pew, head down and eyes fixed on the bible nestled in the slot of the chair in front of him. Hesitantly, he reached out and set his hand on the bible before picking it up and bringing it close to him. He held it against his chest and squeezed his eyes, a tear sliding down the side of his face. 

"Um...hi...I've never really done this before. Not really much for praying or religion in general but I thought I'd give it a shot. Uh...I haven't been doing so good lately. Well, a long time actually. I feel broken, like I'm held together with glue but I'm about to fall apart. I...I need help. Please...I need help..."

Dean's head hung lower as he cried, mouth pressed against the bible and tears spilling from both eyes now. His grip on the book was so tight that, if the book weren't so thick, there was a chance he would have torn it in half. His sobs echoed through the large room for the better part of an hour before he forced himself to set the bible down and wipe his eyes off. He knew that he must look like a mess with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just needed to go home and listen to some music.

As he was leaving the church, he could have sworn he felt a small gust of wind but disregarded it as his own jumpiness. There was no one there and the building was old anyways, it was probably full of drafts. With a shake of his head, he left the church and let the heavy wooden doors swing shut behind him. The loud sound that echoed out made him flinch, his shoulders bunching up and his jaw clenching. With his fists balled, he forced himself to keep walking towards his car and get inside where he proceeded to stare at his keys as he worked up the courage to start the engine.

The growl made his heart race and it took a few seconds to calm himself down before he pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. His senses wouldn't calm down, though, and he kept glancing in the rear view mirror like he expected someone to suddenly appear in the back seat. The hairs on the back of his neck were raised and it felt like someone was watching him even though it was clear there was no one else around. Still, if his time in Heaven had taught him anything it was that something could watch you and not even have to show itself. 

This feeling followed him all the way home.

 

Dean's mental state continued to deteriorate as time went by. He stopped talking to his brother and his workouts got more extreme. Another dangerous habit was that he had started to eat less and less as well as just generally neglecting his bodies needs. By this time Jessica had stopped questioning the severity of what he'd gone through in war, able to see it in his face as his walls continued to crumble. Sam was still trying to talk Dean into going to therapy but Dean would shut the conversation down whenever it would arise, saying that it didn't work and then making a sarcastic comment.

For a while, Dean had been getting better but then he'd just plateaued. He'd seemed to have gotten to a point where he couldn't get any better and his best didn't seem to be all that amazing to begin with. The longer Dean lived with Sam and observed him succeeding in life, the more his own failures came into light. Nightmares plagued him and made it impossible to forget all the horrors of war so he'd only been sleeping when absolutely necessary lately. There would still be a nightmare but it would be put off for as long as possible.

The feeling of being watched hadn't gone away since that day at the church and it had made him paranoid. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and his senses were at hair trigger level again. There had been a few instances he'd nearly decked his brother because Sam had caught him off guard. This was only adding to the strain on their relationship and with each new incident Dean isolated himself further. When he wasn't working out he was in his room or he was walking around at night. The impala had been driven less and less, his paranoia growing even more when he drove it because of the feeling of someone in the backseat.

Things came to a head when he and Sam had a nasty argument over Dean getting help.

"Just let it go, Sam. I don't want help!" yelled Dean, turning on his brother and glaring at him.

"Fine, if you want to keep sabotaging yourself then go ahead. You're gonna end up dead, you know that? Might as well speed up the process and save everyone else some time." said Sam, arms crossed and voice angry but calm. A few seconds passed before Sam seemed to realize what he'd just said and his eyes widened, mouth opening. "Dean...I didn't mean it..."

It didn't matter, though. Dean was already turning around and bolting out the door. Sam's calls of his name were falling on deaf ears as he just ran as far and long as he could.

 

Dean was positioned on a bridge at the edge of town. It was overlooking a river that was rushing by fast enough to carry someone off to never be seen again. He'd been looking down at it for an hour now, debating whether or not he should make the jump. It was seeming like a better idea the more he thought about it. Hell, his own brother had just told him to kill himself even if he had taken the words back. If he did this, though, there was no going back.

Would he end up in Heaven or Limbo? It was a 50/50 shot and any place was better than here as far as he was concerned at this point. So, with a deep breath, he started climbing the side of the bridge before swinging his legs over to sit on the side of it. A countdown from 10 happened and then he pushed off, a feeling of adrenaline surging as he fell towards the water feet first. 

The first hit of the water was ice cold and it bit at his skin and filled his mouth when he gasped open in shock. Instinctively, he tried kicking to the surface but the water was too fast and instead just knocked him down again. Water was filling his lungs and he was losing consciousness fast, the fact that he was indeed drowning and about to die sinking in hard and fast. 

Black started to clouded his vision and he closed his eyes, letting his body relax. He was feeling so heavy and tired that the thought of kicking to the surface was fading to the back of his mind.

The last thought to pass through his head was that drowning happened a lot faster than he thought it would.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke up in a white room with a bright light shining in his face. The thing he noticed right away was that his hands and feet were locked against the metal chair he leaned back against. This had panic swimming through him and he tried to call out for help but found his voice gone. Or, rather, like it was too much effort to make sound. The most he could get out was a small squeak and that took all the strength he had in him. The binds held tight as he struggled against them, showing no sign of giving way. Distantly, he wondered if he had gone to hell after he'd jumped into that river.

Before he could think too much on that, a woman stepped into his view. She was older with red hair tied back in what he assumed to be a bun and dressed in a grey suit. The white wings coming out from behind her shoulders let him know he wasn't in hell. With his memories of what heaven was like, though, he almost wished he was.

"Hello, Dean. You're probably wondering why you're here. I won't have you wait any longer. You see, when you committed suicide you broke the contract you made when you signed up to be a part of Heaven's army. Since you threw away God's greatest gift, you are now bound to serve Heaven as we see fit. I will be injecting you with grace which will turn you into a lesser angel and you will serve us for eternity under your former commander."

Dean's eyes widened with everything she said. He'd be alive forever, stuck as Heavens bitch, with no forseeable way out. Eternal servitude was his worst nightmare and it was coming true. He began shaking as she walked towards him with a syringe filled with a blue substance that he recognized, now writhing against the restraints. 

When the needle pierced his skin, a scream finally pierced the air.

* * *

Castiel was seeking revelation in the sea of solitude, his true form stretching out and relaxing in the cooling waters. He was lost in the feeling of the water wrapping around him that he almost missed the call that was being sent through the link he shared with his siblings. He paused his actions to fit himself back into his human disguise, as he called it, and went to where he was being summoned.

That place ended up being Naomi's office. It was one of the few places in Heaven that he hated going because it always meant someone was in pain. His guess was right again as he heard agonized gasps from the far side of the room, him reluctant to turn and see what exactly was going on. When he did, he could only stare in shock before charging forward angrily and pushing Naomi aside in favor of helping out the person who was trapped in her torture chair.

"Dean! Dean, can you hear me?" asked Castiel as he supported the prone human who had a blue light swirling through the veins in his skin. While holding him up, he rounded on the other angel in the room. "What is the meaning of this, Naomi?"

"He broke his contract." she stated simply, no look of remorse on her face.

"How much did you put in him?!" asked Castiel, practically shouting now.

"The full dose. It'll work faster that way." said Naomi, still impassive.

"If his soul is destroyed, I'm coming for you."

That was all Castiel said before he disappeared, Dean's body in his arms.


	3. Hey guys!

Hey, everyone. I have an idea that I think will keep my writing consistent and interesting. Like most people, I get a lot of inspiration from songs. The first chapter of this fic, for example, is written around the song "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. So, here's my idea. 

How about you guys submit songs in the comment section for me to write the chapters around?

If you guys are okay with this idea, I have just a few requests. No metal/screamo (I get headaches easily), rap, modern country (Shania Twaine and Carrie Underwood are fine), or religious music. Other than that, go crazy. I have a pretty broad music taste.

My favorite artists/bands are Abba, Mumford and Sons, Alanis Morrisette, Elvis, Journey, Boston, Bon Jovi, The Eagles, Kelly Clarkson, Orianthi, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Cher, Shania Twaine, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and And Williams to name a few. 


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